Coping
by Emi.Kabehito
Summary: The nineteen years between the last chapter and the epilogue. Harry Potter has dealt with Voldemort, but can he deal with the consequences? The years of peace were not always the happiest time for the Chosen One.


**Hello ~! So, this is a story idea I've had for a while, about the 19 years between Voldemort's defeat and the epilogue, and how it wasn't very enjoyable at all, particularly in the early years. I suppose it's quite dark, in that sense, but I'm rambling now. It is canon, although I have interpreted things a bit differently :) **

The cameras flash in front of Harry Potter's eyes, each shot momentarily blinding him and causing him to blink. With each blink, different images flash before him: the green and red lights caused by the final spells cast by himself and Voldemort; his parents, Sirius and Remus in the forest; Remus and Tonks lying side by side, dead; Fred's eyes staring unknowingly up at them, completely unreachable; the destruction all around him; too many horrible moments to recount. He wonders, as he's reminded by the photographers to smile again, because it keeps slipping, if these images will remain with him forever. He knows the answer to that, but doesn't want to think about it.

The Battle of Hogwarts ended, with the death of Voldemort and the end of the whole war, two days ago. The castle has been cleaned up as much as possible, the bodies have found their way to distraught family and friends, and most people have gone home, or wherever they want to go. In a week's time, the students will be allowed to return. Life goes on. Harry Potter, however, has been forced to stay at the castle, with the company of only a select group of people, for his own protection from the public. Apparently. The select group are the Weasleys and Hermione, of course. It's always the Weasleys and Hermione. They were selected for him, even if the only people he is really willing to see right now are Ron and Hermione. He can't face the rest of the Weasleys just yet, not when Fred's body was still lying in the Hospital Wing, until they are allowed to return to the Burrow. They don't blame him, but he does. And yet, in these two days at the castle, he's been forced to make contact with them, to talk, although he's really not ready.

The photoshoot is over. Harry's face is ready to be plastered in every newspaper and magazine in print in the Wizarding World, they just need the interviews to go with it now. What on earth can he really say to them? Their questions are just so ridiculous…

'_How did it feel when you knew He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was really dead?'_

'_How did you know how to stop him?'_

'_How did you get back into Hogwarts?'_

'_What do you plan on doing now?'_

'_What are your plans for the future?'_

The list goes on. Harry shouldn't be surprised, really, what will all his prior experience with the press, but he must admit he had forgotten that this was likely to happen. The Horcrux hunt had been so consuming and so immediate, whenever he dared dream about defeating Voldemort once and for all, he had always just imagined the peace that would come with it. Not the attention. He's used to attention, but not on this level, and not two days after the big battle and one day after the clean up. He's so tired. What he wants, more than anything, is to sleep, and to sleep for a long time. He wants to shut himself in a room and only talk when he wants to.

'Potter will organise separate interviews with each newspaper and magazine when he is ready,' Professor McGonagall says sharply, bringing the chatter to a stuttering silence. 'You've got the pictures, which is what you wanted, now go, if you please.'

The new headmistress of Hogwarts has been sitting in on the photo session, to make sure that nothing out-of-order happened, whatever that means. She had objected photos on Harry's behalf anyway, but the Ministry had insisted. Harry has never appreciated until now just what a great teacher Professor McGonagall is.

The photographers, looking a little flustered, nod, and they all begin to pack away their equipment. McGonagall stands up, and Harry follows suit. They leave the room, the disused classroom where Harry had first discovered the Mirror of Erised, all those years ago, and head back up to the Gryffindor Tower, where Harry, the Weasleys and Hermione are staying. As they near the Portrait Hole, McGonagall turns to Harry and says, 'There is something I would like to discuss with you, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, Potter. If it's not too much trouble, please meet me in my office at three this afternoon.'

'Your office … that would be Professor Dumbledore's old one?' Harry checks, his voice cracking and hoarse through a lack of speaking.

'That's right,' McGonagall nods. 'Until then, Potter.' She turns and hurries away, leaving Harry outside the Portrait Hole, which opens without waiting for a password. Harry steps in, and is met with a miserable sight.

Mr and Mrs Weasley, along with Percy, Bill and Fleur, are sat on the squashy armchairs by the fire, not saying a word to each other. Ron and Hermione are sat facing each other on the window seat, holding hands and again not speaking. An open book lies next to Hermione. She keeps trying to read it, but can never manage more than a page. Ginny is sat in the far corner, her eyes firmly on the ground, and George is no where to be seen. He hasn't left his old dormitory once since the clean-up ended yesterday. They all look up when Harry enters, though he's not sure why, because who else are they expecting? It's not like Fred's going to … Harry stops himself from finishing the thought. They all attempt a strained smile in Harry's direction, but he can't return it. _It's because we're not busy, _he thinks bitterly to himself. Two days ago, there was the party, and the celebrations, and no one allowed themselves to think of the horrors that had happened. Yesterday there was cleaning, keeping their minds of it. Now, there is nothing, except that the full extent of their loss has completely sunk in.

Harry goes and sits with Ron and Hermione.

'How was it?' Hermione asks him quietly.

'Horrible,' he replies. 'Don't make me talk about. McGonagall wants to see us in her office, at three this afternoon.'

'What? All three of us?' Ron says wonderingly. Harry nods, and Ron's eyes widen in alarm. As he does so, Harry notices how red and sore Ron's eyes look around the edges. He must have been crying for a long time.

'What does she want with all three of this?' Ron mutters. 'You don't think she's going to ask us about we've been doing all year?'

'I don't think so,' Hermione says thoughtfully. 'Professor McGonagall wouldn't ask. It'll be something important, I expect.'

At this moment, Ginny approaches them. Meeting Harry directly in the eye, she says, 'Can we go for a walk, Harry? I want to talk to you.'

The last thing Harry feels like doing is more talking, but it had to happen sooner or later. Ginny is so important to him, she deserves every explanation possible. But couldn't it have waited? However, Harry nods, and stands up again. He and Ginny head out of the Portrait Hole, no one giving them a second look.

Ginny seems to be walking with a purpose, so Harry follows her down corridor after corridor and staircase after staircase. They walk in silence, and Harry wonders if she's deciding how best to say whatever she wants to talk about.

'What did you want to talk to me about, Ginny?' Harry asks as they reach the Entrance Hall.

Ginny stops with her hand on the handle of the front door, hesitating.

'I don't really know,' she says slowly. 'Or, there's so much I want to talk to you about, I don't know where to start. It's just been so long since we last properly spoke, almost a year in fact … and where do you start after a year?'

'Anywhere,' Harry tells her. Ginny pushes open the door, and they step outside into the glorious May sunshine. Once again, the weather seems to be mocking Harry.

'Anywhere?' Ginny repeats, eyebrows raised. 'You sure?'

'Yes,' Harry says. 'We have all the time in the world to talk, so if you start anywhere, eventually you can piece it all together.'

Ginny smiled wanly. 'All the time in the world … if only. I know no one lives forever, but I'd never fully appreciated how mortal and frail people are until … until Fred died.'

She holds back a tear by biting on her lip, and Harry realises how long it's been since they kissed, and how much he longs for her familiar, warm touch again.

'Can we talk about that?' Ginny says, managing to compose herself again. 'When Fred died. You were there, weren't you?'

Harry nods. 'It … it was so unexpected. We all thought the danger had passed, momentarily at least. Fred was joking, as always, and he died doing what he always did.'

'Knowing that, somehow, doesn't comfort me at all,' Ginny states matter-of-factly. 'It doesn't matter how he died. The point is, he's dead, and we can't bring him back. And my grief can't be anything to what George is feeling. I'm so worried about him. Every time he looks in the mirror, he will see Fred. What he never recovers?'

'He will if we help him?' Harry suggests. 'He can't be left to sit and mourn. I should know.'

'Maybe so,' Ginny says with a sigh. Harry has an impulse to kiss her again, but he manages to get rid of it. It's too soon, it wouldn't feel right.

The conversation seems to have dried up already, and they are soon walking back to the castle in silence. For Harry, three o'clock can't come soon enough.

Harry, Ron and Hermione make their way down the familiar route to Dumbledore's office, arriving at the door with five minutes to spare. Harry knocks, and McGonagall says, 'Enter' immediately. The three best friends nod to one another, and Harry opens the door.

McGonagall is sat at the desk that had been occupied by Dumbledore for so long, and Harry finds it a bit jarring to see her there.

'You wanted to see us, Professor?' Hermione pipes up.

'Yes, Miss Granger,' McGonagall replies. 'If you, Mr Weasley and Mr Potter will take a seat, then I will get immediately to business.'

They quickly take seats. McGonagall clears her throat and says, 'It may seem a bit soon, but I would like to discuss with the three of you what your plans for next year are.'

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchange a slightly bewildered glance.

'Next year?' Ron repeats.

'Yes, Weasley, next year, last year's not much good,' McGonagall says dryly. 'You are all aware that you have missed the last year of your education. Now, there are a few options for you. If you like, you may repeat the year –'

'We'll have to, won't we, Professor?' Harry interjects. 'If we want to be Aurors …'

McGonagall looks at him sternly, but also gives him a small smile. 'You didn't let me finish, Potter. You may repeat your seventh year at Hogwarts, or, if you like, you may join the Auror Department straight away. Everyone who participated in the final battle may become an Auror without the necessary qualifications. It's one of Kingsley's first acts as Minister for Magic. You don't have to decide straight away, but I and Kingsley would like your answers by the end of June.'

'I would like to go to the Auror Department, straight away,' Harry says instantly. He's given the idea of returning to Hogwarts a lot of thought over the last year or so, and has decided firmly against it. He loves Hogwarts, but another year of people whispering and pointing at him whenever they pass him in the corridors? He couldn't bear that. Better for him to be in the Auror Department, cleaning up the mess Voldemort has left behind, doing something useful and productive with his time.

'Very well,' McGonagall says. 'You better send a letter to Kingsley.'

'I'll need to borrow an o-owl,' Harry says, his throat catching on the last word. No more Hedwig. It hadn't really sunk in until then.

McGonagall nods, and turns her attention to Ron and Hermione. 'Have the two of you also made a decision already?'

'Yes, Professor McGonagall,' Hermione replies. 'I would like to come back, and repeat the year. I feel it's the best option for me and for what I want to do.'

All heads turn to Ron, who clears his throat and says, 'I don't know, Professor. I'm sure I don't want to come back to Hogwarts, but then I have a few options left open …'

'Fine, Weasley. You still have over a month, so no need to rush,' McGonagall assures him. 'That's all I wanted to say. You may go.'

They turn to leave, but as they do so, McGonagall's voice flares up behind them, 'Oh, actually, one more thing. The Ministry says its okay for you all to go home. A Portkey has been arranged for tonight, and it will take you from Hogsmeade to the Burrow.'

The three of them nod, and hurry back to the common room.

'Well, I found that very useful,' Hermione says. 'I'd always planned on returning for the seventh year, and I was just about to go up to Professor McGonagall and ask her myself.'

'I'm just glad we get to home at last,' Ron sighs. 'Everyone should feel better at home.'

Harry says nothing, completely lost in thought. He has to write a letter, and send it off. He's going back to the Burrow tonight, but what happens from there? He has to organise meetings for interviews. There are funerals to go to. It's going to be a busy summer. Thank God he will be starting work soon, and will have something to throw himself into, to take his mind off things.


End file.
